Hold Me Too Close
by IttyBittyWriter
Summary: "Somebody, hold me too close. Somebody, hurt me too deep. Somebody, sit in my chair, and ruin my sleep, and make me aware of being alive" -Stephen Sondheim, Company.
1. Hold Me Too Close

**Here's my latest project, which came about from musing on the lyrics of "Being Alive." It's basically a cuddle compilation, but it's also more than that. After all, cuddling is never simple. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. These characters were created by Roger Corman, Alan Menken, and Howard Ashman. The title belongs to Stephen Sondheim ("Being Alive" from _Company_. If you don't know it, listen to Neil Patrick Harris, Raul Esparza, or this really cool group version with George Hearn, Carol Burnett, Ruthie Henshall, and John Barrowman). **

With a door slam and a roaring engine, he was gone before Audrey could even move from the restrained position from which he'd freed her. She couldn't be certain which was worse: the public humiliation of bruises, cuts, scars, casts, and the like, or the private agony of knowing you're so worthless that he couldn't be bothered to spend the night after forced, painful sex.

Deep down, she knew she should go shower, try to scrub away the shame and negativity, but she couldn't bring herself to move from her bed, opting instead to simply bundle herself in her comforter. She wished Orin would hold her—no, that wasn't entirely true. She wished Orin would magically transform into a good person and hold her (not that she deserved a good guy, but she could still wish).

Really, she wished that Seymour would hold her, as impossible as that was. She certainly didn't merit Seymour's affection at all, but lord did she covet it. Audrey curled up, her knees close to her chest, beneath the covers, content to think and daydream. She knew, she was positive, that she wouldn't be good for him; the only emotion she'd steadily elicited from men was anger, and to break Seymour that way would be the death of her. But as she closed her eyes, she could practically feel his warm arms surrounding her, soft chest as her pillow, timid smile…

There was a soft rap on her door. _Please don't be Orin_, Audrey silently willed. "Who is it?" she squeaked nervously.

"Audrey?" called back a soft voice, "Is everything alright?" Audrey bolted upright: that was _not_ Orin.

She flashed out of her bed, wrapping a robe around her still exposed body before running to the nearest mirror to fix her hair and face. "Uh, just a second!" she yelled to him as she examined herself: black eye, busted lip, mascara dripping down her cheeks, hair pulled to all angles…she worked as quickly as she could, resigning herself to the fact that the bruise and cut would be impossible to cover up under such a time constraint. She grabbed a band and forced her hair, still stiff from pre-date hair-spraying, into a low, messy bun behind her head; a few strands refused, choosing to hang around her cheeks instead, but strangely, Audrey didn't mind—it looked almost pretty, she thought, if that were possible. She then wiped the makeup from under her eyes, clearing away the smudges and reapplying until she deemed her face as good as it'd get; miraculously, some of her eye shadow had stayed intact, saving her some trouble there. Giving herself one last glance, she finally ran to open the door.

"Hi Seymour!" she said as she flung the door ajar, "What's goin' on?" Seymour had gasped when he saw her: though she was beautiful, her hair tied up, her robe clinging to her curves, the swollen black skin around her eye and the cut splitting her lip shocked and horrified him; he hated to see her so used. "Are you okay Audrey?" he asked gently. "I heard yelling and slamming…"

"Oh…" she trailed off, trying to think of an excuse, "Orin and I just had a little disagreement. Everything's okay, really" she said, topping off the lie with a smile. Seymour didn't buy it, she could clearly see, but she didn't want to tell him the truth. Realizing they were still standing at her threshold, she stepped aside, saying "You can come in, if you want." Seymour stepped inside, and she let him to a tiny couch just across from her bed, where she sat, him following her lead.

"Audrey, I…" he began slowly; Seymour wasn't much good at words, she knew, so she waited patiently. "I saw him...hit you tonight. And I just…well, you deserve better than that. You're kind, and beautiful, and fun, and pretty funny too, and you shouldn't…you shouldn't have to hurt anymore." In a rare moment of courage, he reached out and lightly placed his hand on hers, looking deeply into her eyes. Audrey gasped, tears brimming her eyes.

"That's…that's awful kind of ya, Seymour," Audrey breathed in disbelief; this was the most he'd ever said to her, and these were the kindest, gentlest, most sincere words she'd ever heard. Her gazed affixed on their hands, she turned hers over and clasped his hand firmly but gently, enlacing their fingers. "I just—I'm not a nice girl—I don't deserve—you shouldn't be here—" Seymour unlocked their hands, only to frame her face gently with his hands. "Shh," he quieted her, "You're more than a nice girl. You do deserve a nice guy. A gentleman, who'll treat you right, a prince, a knight in shining armor. You deserve—" he was cut off as Audrey brought her lips to his; his hands remained clasping her cheeks for a time, before he slide them slowly down her form, wrapping around her waist and back to hold her close to him; he could feel the scab of her split lip, as he attempted, little by little, to gently kiss the hurt away. Their kiss ended as sweetly as it had begun, the two of them breaking apart to remain mere inches apart, gazing endlessly at the other.

Audrey moved first; turning, she stretched her legs out on the couch, grasping Seymour's hands and wrapping their arms around her, as she rested her head against Seymour's chest. He outstretched his legs as well, letting her rest between them. Audrey lifted one of his hands to her mouth, gently brushing her lips against his fingers. In the back of her mind lurked guilt, fear, trepidation, anxiety…but they didn't matter right now, in Seymour's soft, warm, embrace. She curled up against him, tucking her knees to her chest and resting her cheek against his shoulder. This must be what safe feels like, she thought, a content smile forming on her face. He wrapped around her tighter, one arm gently stroking her shoulder while the other protectively hugged her hip. Seymour wasn't accustomed to having beautiful women in his arms, but with Audrey, it all came naturally—the words, the embrace, the kiss even. Audrey was surrounded by his radiant warmth, encircling her and driving away all the pain from before.

"Do you wanna…maybe…stay?" Audrey asked cautiously, all but holding her breath. He bent to kiss the top of her head, replying, "Sure…if you want me to." She looked up at him and smiled before burrowing her head into him once more. He was so warm, so gentle, so soft…

She awoke to the harsh lights of her room, bundled in her comforter, alone. Her hair was still a mess, her face still mascara-stained, her body still bare, her heart still broken. But for the span of a short dream, she'd been happy, warm, and safe. As Audrey crossed her room to her shower, she smiled; in a few short hours, she'd see Seymour, feel the warmth of his smile, and remember her dream, and she'd be safe, at least for the day.


	2. Hurt Me Too Deep

Hurt Me Too Deep

"Please, Audrey, I need you," he sobs into her. All he can see is blood—blood everywhere, splattered against her white dress, porcelain skin, golden hair. Seymour desperately covers her bloody gashes with his hand to stop the bleeding, but it is in vain; the color drains from her face, and the life from her eyes.

Strangely, she smiles at him. "It's okay Seymour," she whispers in a weak voice, unable to speak much more loudly. "When I die, which should be very shortly, give me too the plant."

"You don't know what you're saying!" he cries; feeding her to the Audrey II seems an impossible prospect, after it killed her. "But Audrey hushes him. "Yes, I do. If I'm in the plant, then I'm part of the plant, and we can always be together." Her smile is calm, serene, though her body convulses from the blood loss. Tears form in her eyes, but she does not look afraid; rather, she lies bravely, awaiting the inevitable. She moves as much as she can to stay in his arms, happy to simply lie with him for as long as she can. Seymour cradles her gently in his arms, holding her head to his heart; blood stains his crisp white shirt, but he couldn't care less.

He can feel her pulse slowing, her breathe growing shallower and shallower. Seymour kisses her forehead, tears flowing freely down his cheeks as his angel begins his flight from him. Audrey lifts her head to breathe one last time, "I love you, Seymour," a single tear trickling down her cheek. Seymour is overcome; he lifts her head to his, kissing her lips firmly; he can feel her take her final breath.

It is over. But Seymour finds himself unable to stand, to move; he can only hold his angel close one final time, weeping, for she will never be held again, and it's his own fault.

**A/N: 1) sorry this is so short, and 2) sorry I wrote this. The line is, "Somebody, hurt me too deep." I can't be held accountable. **


	3. Sit In My Chair

**Here's chapter 3, "Sit in My Chair." I'll admit, this isn't my favorite thing I've ever written, but I'm sort of excited about the next chapter (spoiler alert: the prompt is "ruin my sleep."). **

**Disclaimer: I still own nothing. Still all belongs to Menken&Ashman (and, to a lesser extent, Sondheim). Don't sue**

It was the day of Radio Broadcast number 2, an even greater success than the one before. Seymour'd even remembered to include the address! Celebrating abounded at 1313 Skid Row by Mr. Mushnik and the three girls who hung about, but when Seymour came back from his interview, Audrey was nowhere to be found. "Is Audrey late again today, Mr. Mushnik?"

"She was here! She was on time for your interview and everything!" Mushnik raved. Seymour couldn't help but smile, if Audrey found his interview important enough to get to work on time. "Did she, uh, look okay this morning?" Mr. Mushnik paused for a moment. "What's okay anymore?" he answered, "between the two of us, she was a bit of a mess. Not too bruised up this time, but looked like she hadn't slept in days." Seymour nodded.

"I'm just gonna put some things downstairs and then I'll be back up so we can go out!" Seymour called eagerly. Ever since Mr. Mushnik had decided to adopt him, he'd been much kinder; offering to take him to dinner (and then actually doing it), not yelling at him for dropping pots quite as much, and forgiving him once or twice for forgetting a customer's order. Seymour ran down the stairs to his basement bedroom, where he was surprised to find

"Audrey?" The blonde rested on the chair by his bed, her face hidden in a box of pots and vases on her lap. He could see the gentle, steady rise and fall of her chest; she must've fallen asleep. Realizing that couldn't be comfortable for her, Seymour delicately slid the box from its perch on her thighs, setting them down beside him; her upper body slumped forward, forehead grazing her left knee.

Seymour grabbed the pillow from the head of his bed and his balled-up grey blanket from the good. Gently, he sat Audrey up, carefully tucking the pillow behind her head; he felt her grasp at his shirt, gripping his collar. He noticed fresh bruises around her wrists, and looked more deeply at her sleeping face, seeing the heavy bags that weighed under her eyes. Seymour stood very still, hoping Audrey'd relinquish his shirt soon; happily, she obliged. He then gently laid the blanket on her, tucking it a bit around her shoulders.

Audrey stirred at the sensation. Her eyes blinked open to see Seymour's head just inches from her own as he tucked her in. "Seymour?" she asked, lifting her head a bit; he jumped back, startled and little embarrassed. "Sorry!" he said quietly, "didn't mean to wake you."

She smiled sleepily at him, "Don't be sorry! I can't believe I fell asleep…is Mistah Mushnik mad?" It was Seymour's turn to smile. "Nah, he hardly noticed really," he said, leaning against the side of his chair. Audrey sat up, rubbing at her eyes in a desperate attempt to wake up. "Thanks for lettin' me sleep, Seymour, but I should probably go back up-" Seymour gently placed a hand on her arm, stopping her. "Are you okay?" he asked, slowly and sincerely; every day he grew more and more concerned.

Audrey looked into his eyes, wide with worry. "I'm fine, Seymour," she said with a gentle smile, hoping to relieve his concerns. "I just…my date ended kinda late, and I wanted ta be on time for ya interview, so I came right over."

His eyes grew. "You didn't sleep last night?" Biting her lip, she shook her head 'no.' "Orin dropped me off late this mornin'," she explained, face flush. "You, uh…you can stay down here if you wanna, and get some sleep," Seymour offered. "Are ya sure?" He nodded with a smile, "Whatever you want." She looked up at him, eyes wide and thankful. "Th—thanks, Seymour." Her eyes shut, and she drifted off within minutes, her head drooping to one side. He gently brushed a stray hair behind her ear, pulled his blanket back over her, and shut out the light in his basement-bedroom. As Seymour ascended the stairs, he couldn't help but think that he never liked his chair as much as he had at that moment.


	4. Ruin My Sleep

**Hi there! I know I just updated yesterday, but I'm really excited about this story. It's the first piece of LSoH fanfiction I ever thought up, but I never knew what to do with it until yesterday. I've mostly stopped writing fluffy post-happy-ending stories, but I really like how this turned out, and I think it balances out "Hurt Me Too Deep"**

**So, here's "Ruin My Sleep." Enjoy! Reviews are always appreciated :)**

Waking up alone had truly shocked Audrey Krelborn, née Fulquard; this might have been the first morning since her wedding she'd woken up without her husband lying beside her. But as she turned over that morning, she discovered only messed-up sheets. Tying her robe around her, she followed the aroma of coffee down to the little kitchen in her little suburban home, where she found her husband hovering around the toaster.

"Mornin' darling," she chirped, wrapping her arms around his waist from behind and gently kissing his cheek. Seymour jumped a little, relaxing once he realized it was only his wife. "Good morning, Audrey," he replied, turning to hand her a mug. She recognized it as soon as he turned around.

"Seymour, where'd ya get that shinah?" she asked, her hand gently rising to examine his face; a black and purple bruise had formed around his left eye, barely obscured by his thick brown glasses. "Uhh…shiner?" he stalled, dodging the question. Before his wife could continue, the toaster popped, startling the pair; Seymour couldn't help but laugh quietly at their panic over a couple pieces of heated bread, hoping it would distract his spouse. He had no luck.

"Lemme get a look at that," she continued; she guided him to a chair and sat on one of his knees, lifting his glasses to get a better look at the swollen eye. "It's nothing, really," he protested, "I just…uh, I…fell." The excuse was too weak for even Audrey, naïve as she could be, to buy. "Seymour, what happened to your eye?" the concern in her eyes assaulted him, the truth starting to bubble out of his lips. He pulled her into an embrace, inhaling deeply before he began.

"You were, uh, having a nightmare last night, I think." Audrey's eyebrows rose, confused and concerned. "You were kinda thrashing around a lot, and, well…" She gasped, a hand rising to her mouth. "Ya mean…I did that?" Shock overwhelmed her. "Oh Seymour darlin', I'm so sorry! I didn't mean…I can't believe I…are you alright?!"

"Of course I'm alright," he said, smiling at her, "Just a little banged up. I'll be fine." Audrey's mind was reeling: _how could I give my husband a black eye?_ She thought back over the last couple weeks, remembering the strange bruises she'd noticed along his legs and even his arms; initially, she'd written them off as his clumsiness, but now…

"Those other bruises…" she started, "Are they from me too?" A moment passed before he could bring himself to nod. "Oh, Seymour…" she gasped, "I'm so sorry! I—gosh. This whole time you been worried 'bout hurting me, but really…"

He hushed her quietly. "Don't worry about it," he said, "nothing I can't take." Not that long ago, she'd said the same to him: _Audrey, bruised around the eye and arm carried in a sling, smiled gently at the boy across the counter. "Oh, I'm fine, Seymour," she reassured him, "nothin' I can't take." _Her eyes grew as the memory slid through her mind.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, guilt tearing through her. "Don't worry, Seymour; I ain't gonna hurt you no more." Seymour kissed her forehead softly. "S'not your fault," he muttered. "Please don't be upset. You didn't do anything. " She nodded, smiling weakly.

12:45. _Where is she?_ Seymour asked himself. He'd gone to bed early, having slept little the night before, and left Audrey watching TV; she said she'd be up soon. But now it was past midnight, and Seymour had discovered that trying to sleep alone when you've grown accustomed to having a soft, warm, beautiful woman in your arms is harder than you'd expect. Growing anxious, he tore out of bed, the need to find his wife propelling him despite exhaustion.

She was reclined on their little couch in her nightgown, a thin blanket thrown haphazardly over her, her head resting against a small pillow, turned toward the couch's backrest. Seymour could tell from her subtle movement that Audrey was awake, unable to find any repose on the tiny sofa. He lay as delicately and quietly as he could beside her, wrapping an arm protectively around her waist. Her body tensed at the contact. "S-Seymour?" she stuttered; a lifetime on Skid Row left her always alert, if not paranoid. Her husband chuckled lightly, relieving her. "I thought you went to bed?" she asked, turning over to face him. "I thought _you'd_ be up soon," he retorted, a little teasingly and a lot concerned.

Audrey averted her eyes. "I, uh…I just wanted to let you heal first," she confessed, "Before I do _that_ again." "Hey," Seymour began quietly, gently lifting her chin towards him, her eyes moving with her head, "No reason to get upset. I'm fine, see?" he smiled at her.

She smiled halfheartedly. "You used ta get so upset when I'd say that to you, remember?" Seymour's jaw dropped. "You don't think…oh, Audrey! It's nothing like that!" He wrapped his arms around her more tightly as he continued, "You're having nightmares; you're not in control of what you're doing. I could never get mad at you for something you do in your sleep. Audrey…" he kissed her nose lightly, finally drawing a smile from her lips, "I love you. And a couple little bruises ain't gonna stop me from spending the night with my wife." Audrey couldn't help but grin; Seymour really did love her. She recalled once when she'd accidently nudged Orin in his sleep…well, his reaction was quite different. Audrey brought her lips to her husband's, their bodies pressed close together on their couch in their home. The kiss ended shortly, but Seymour and Audrey remained with their foreheads touching, lips barely apart.

Seymour grinned a little slyly, going in for another kiss, deeper than the last. "Yanno," he said between kisses, "this reminds me of those first couple nights…on your tiny little bed back on Skid Row..." Audrey giggled, toying with his brown curls. She rolled him onto his back, her legs resting between his, and kissed her husband once more. He yawned after the kiss broke apart, his urge to sleep betraying other urges. Audrey rested her head on his chest, his arms still gripping her waist. The two drifted into sleep like that, Seymour's grip eventually relaxing naturally, Audrey's head rising and falling with Seymour's chest. When Seymour felt her stir or thrash, he'd hold her closer, one hand rising to caress her hair soothingly. It wasn't perfect, he conceded, but it's Audrey, and he'd give up endless hours of sleep if it meant she'd get through the night.


	5. Make Me Aware

**Hi there, devoted readers. Here's the latest chapter in this little project, "Make Me Aware" (The line in the song is "Make me aware of being alive").**

**Disclaimer: along with the usual stuff I don't own (including the rights to dialogue I copied basically word for word), I don't own the last few lines; those are from the musical _Lucky Stiff _by Lynn Ahrens and Steven Flaherty.**

Audrey woke up, feeling empty.

She showered, dressed, and fixed her hair and makeup, feeling empty.

She walked across the street to work, on time, feeling empty.

She answered phones and filled orders, feeling empty.

She put on her sweater, ready to head back to her apartment, feeling empty, when Seymour stopped her, wanting to show off his new purchase.

Seeing that leather jacket inundated her with every emotion she'd been missing since Orin disappeared. Tears sprang to Audrey's eyes immediately, not out of grief per say, but from the overwhelming feelings hitting her all at once—sadness and fear, relief and, most strongly, guilt. She turned her head, hoping to block her outburst from Seymour's view, but to no avail.

"I'll take it off! I'll take it back! I'll burn it! Just please—don't cry," Seymour exclaimed, hoping to alleviate whatever pain he seemed to have caused. "Oh, look what I did," she heard him mutter to himself, before saying gently to her, "I only bought it to impress you…that's all I ever meant to do."

"I—I don't know what's come over me," she replied, wiping away the tears and smudging makeup. "I guess I've been a little under the weather lately," she excused herself hollowly, hoping to regain control of her previous emotionless state, fighting back what threatened to burst through.

"It's Orin, isn't it?" Guilt washed over her as soon she heard the name. She struggled to remain stoic as Seymour continued, "You've been down in the dumps ever since his mysterious disappearance. You miss him, don't you?"

Audrey could have laughed, if it weren't for the crushing guilt. Since Orin disappeared, she'd felt vitiated, devoid of all her senses and emotions; it left her practically longing for her abuser, as fear and pain were better than emptiness, except…"Miss him? I've never felt so relieved as when they told me he'd vanished," she answered, looking anything but relieved, "Not to mention the money I've saved on Epsom salts and Ace bandages…"

He said beside her, "Then what's the matter?" Seymour turned to face her, searching her anxious eyes for an answer.

"I feel guilty, I guess," she said honestly, finally owning up to the regret she'd been holding back. "I mean, if he met with foul play or some terrible accident of some kind, then it's partly my fault, you see, because…secretly, I wished it." She whispered the last words, admitting the most recent deed of her shameful life.

"Audrey, you shouldn't waste another minute thinking about that creep," Seymour started, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "There's a lotta guys would give anything to go out with you. Nice guys."

_Nice guys?_ Again, she could have laughed, if it weren't so depressing. "I don't deserve a nice guy, Seymour," she said, mostly to remind herself of all the reasons she shouldn't pursue her silly crush on her _(adorable, sweet…)_ coworker, lest she taint him the way she has herself.

"That's not true-""You don't know the half of it!" Audrey burst with rainy eyes, emotion pouring out any way it could, as she walked purposefully away from him, needing to distance herself from Seymour's goodness. "I've led a terrible life. I deserve a creep like Orin Scrivello, DDS. You wanna know where I met 'im?" She took his silence as a yes. "In the Guttah," she confided, sinking onto a trashcan.

"The gutter?" he asked, quizzically and innocently; it almost made her smile to realize how truly innocent he was.

"The Guttah," she explained, "It's a night spot. I worked there my nights off when we weren't makin' much money. I'd put on cheap and tasteless outfits, not nice ones like this." The entire sad affair spilled out of her before she even had time to realize her confession. "Low and nasty apparel…and I'd…" Tears choked the end of her sentence.

"Audrey, that's all behind you now," Seymour affirmed, kneeling beside her, "You've got nothing be ashamed of. You're a very nice person—I always knew it. Underneath the bruises and the handcuffs, you know what I saw?" She looked up at him, awaiting his answer, "A girl I respected. I still do."

Audrey smiled and cried, still unwilling to believe that kind, considerate Seymour could see so much good in her where no one else ever could. He told her that he saw beauty in her without makeup, and love and kindness despite her faults and failings. He told her everything would be okay. He said he's her friend—_if he knew that I wanted him to be more…_

No one was ever as kind to her as he was in that moment—not her parents, nor her boyfriends, nor even any of her 'friends.' She'd known, thanks to them, who she was—"ugly," "stupid," "tramp," "slut," "dirty," "cheap," "worthless"—and, as the image she'd held of herself began to crumble thanks to one Seymour took care to build—"beautiful," "kind," "giving," "loving," "invaluable"—she couldn't have been happier. Everything happened so suddenly-Audrey could barely tell who she was, what she felt, whether to laugh or cry—but for the first time in God knows how long, she felt alive.

Seymour's arms around her waist felt more natural than any other sensation, and Audrey knew exactly where to go with it; she threw her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, kissing him passionately. Audrey could have stayed there forever—she would have, had Mr. Mushnik not interrupted.

When Audrey finally left work, she smiled for the first time in weeks: Seymour was going to call on her, and they could pick up right where they left off. She opened the door to her tiny apartment, her smile livelier than it had ever been before; at least, until she would see Seymour again.

_It's all so strange, and all so new  
And all so strangely overdue  
Yet somehow, being here with you  
I know that I'll survive  
Oh, it's good to be alive!_


End file.
